


Twisted Games

by kingwellsjaha



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: M/M, Not tagged as Noncon but with Aethelred not an entirely comfortable sexual situation, Porn as Character Study, Rough Sex, Weird Power Antics, anyway loosely follows canon, i call these three the Eton Club, is that even a thing or am i being pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingwellsjaha/pseuds/kingwellsjaha
Summary: Their interactions sometimes feel like a game, a sick twisted struggle for power. Now Eardwulf is good at those, better than Aethelred he would say. Unlike Aethelred, Eardwulf knows what it feels like to be truly powerless, to be hated and laughed at. If Aethelred would have been in his shoes, he wouldn’t have survived.or Eardwulf blows both Aethelred and Edward. It reveals something about his character, I guess.
Relationships: Aethelred/Eardwulf, Edward the Elder/Eardwulf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Twisted Games

**Author's Note:**

> listen, yesterday i remembered that Edward and Eardwulf actually had a few interesting moments in season 4 and then i decided to go with it, throwing Aethelred in the mix because why not. this is only a small piece and saddly not that well thought out. maybe at another point in time, i will write something a bit more substantial for them.
> 
> i listened to For the Damaged by Blonde Redhead and When You Break by Bear's Den, which make a fantastic soundtrack for this story, if you are interested.

Aethelred’s touch is always brutal and demanding. He tears at Eardwulf’s hair and clothes, rips them open and laughs when the buttons fall to the floor. For some men cruelty is a mask they can hide behind, but when Eardwulf looks into Aethelred’s agitated blue eyes, he knows that there is nothing beneath, but greed and an all burning wish for control.

Their interactions sometimes feel like a game, a sick twisted struggle for power. Now Eardwulf is good at those, better than Aethelred he would say. Unlike Aethelred, Eardwulf knows what it feels like to be truly powerless, to be hated and laughed at. If Aethelred would have been in his shoes, he wouldn’t have survived.

This is why Eardwulf knows that as to let Aethelred win because as long as he is happy, Eardwulf will get what he wants. So he goes down on his knees and lets Aethelred suffocate him as he forces himself down his throat.

With Aethelred there is no line between pleasure and pain. It’s always a bit too much, always a little too far. Once Aethelred had hit him and his lips had split. What a terrifying face Aethelred had made then: his pupils blown wide and the smile of a lion and not a man on his face. He enjoys inflicting pain and Eardwulf is smart enough not to tell him that he has no problem taking it. Instead he turns the other cheek and waits for Aethelred to latch onto it.

And every time he does, Eardwulf imagines a day when the tables turn. When he will be in charge and respected with Aethelred at his mercy. He imagines putting his hands into Aethelred’s hair and tearing until the blonde locks come off. He imagines Aethelred’s pained expression, his wimmers and has to stop himself from smiling, as Aethelred digs his hands into his thighs.

* * *

And then the day comes. Aethelred outlives his usefulness and turns into a vengeful shadow of himself. It is scary at first, but then it feels like a weight lifted off Eardwulf’s shoulders. He takes control again, orders the guards as Aethelred withers away in his bed. He can shout obscenities at Eardwulf, but his words can only go so far. Even he sees that his power is dwindling. The lords of Mercia are already fighting over the throne as Aethelred lies in bed. Eardwulf smiles, as Aethelred loses at his own game.

* * *

Now the king of Wessex is different. His cool demeanour masks fear. When Eardwulf looks into his eyes, he can see a small scared child carrying a heavy crown. It doesn’t take Eardwulf quickly to notice that he yearns for a friend and Eardwulf is more than happy to provide. Gently he puts his hand around the king’s shoulder and rubs circles onto the shoulder blade until he can feel the tension evaporate and the king smiles.

He has a pretty face, Eardwulf thinks, no hard edges at all. It is then that he kisses him.

The king is hesitant at first. When he finally starts to kiss back, it’s sloppy, open-mouthed and desperate. _Be good_ , his hands beg as he pulls Eardwulf closer, _be truthful, be true_. Eardwulf is neither of these things, but neither is the king, so he doesn’t feel bad. And at least he can pretend to be, good, truthful, true. Quickly he pulls off the king’s pants and goes on his knees. And as he looks up into his big eyes, he feels quite powerful. He takes him in his mouth and the king’s head falls back. A silent gasp escapes his lips. His hands take hold of Eardwulf’s hair. He holds on tightly as if Eardwulf is the only thing that keeps him grounded and maybe Eardwulf is.

Taking hold of the king’s thighs, Eardwulf starts his work. He is good at this. Just like with sword fighting, he had years of practise. So he knows exactly how to twirl his tongue, when to quicken the pace and when to slow. He gently scrapes over the king’s soft inner thighs and gets a surprised yelp, which makes him chuckle in return.

The king is so quiet. It makes him seem pious. Eardwulf assumes that as the son of the famous Christian king Alfred, he has to be. So of course he makes a game out of drawing sounds out of him, making him hum, moan and curse. When Eardwulf is done with him, the king is silently pleading and calling for God at the same time. His hands grab Eardwulf’s hair tightly and the pain rushes through his body, making him grow hot.

The king comes with a yell and like a good servant, Eardwulf drinks it all.

When he slowly lets go, the king is still shaking. He stares at Eardwulf as if he is only now realizing what has happened. Eardwulf wipes his mouth and gets up. He looks around the king’s room and then slowly moves to the bed. As if it is his own he sits down, his arms outstretched. With raised eyebrows he looks to the king, who still stands in the middle of the room, watching him with a blank expression.

They are not done yet. Eardwulf cocks his head expectantly. It’s important to never let anyone question your power. Slowly he puts his hand on his crotch and squeezes.

The king flinches lightly. Eardwulf can see him swallow hard, his Adam's apple moving noticeably—oh how Eardwulf longs to sink his teeth into the king’s sensitive skin and make him yell even louder than before.

He opens his trousers and takes himself in hand, pumping slowly.

Of course the king could deny him—Aethelred would have or make a terrible game out of it. He could call the guards and put Eardwulf into prison, but somehow Eardwulf knows that he won’t. He knows that he is the one in control here. After all if the king wants a good, true friend, he needs to be one as well.

And indeed finally the king moves forward until he is by the bed, Eardwulf opens his legs so that he can position himself between his feet.

Unlike him, the king is not very skilled. It’s just as sloppy and wet as his kisses had been, but Eardwulf still enjoys it, maybe even more so because he knows he must be the first. He lets the king work him up and down without interfering, simply enjoying the sight of a powerful man at his knees. Aethelred never had such a pleasure, all the people he made look up to him, had already been at his mercy.

Then he grabs the king’s hair, it’s soft underneath his fingertips, and beckons upwards. He can hear the king choke slightly as he does, but he does not tear his head away. His teeth scrape a little unpleasantly against Eardwulf, but the quick pace makes more than up for it. 

He comes with a husky roar. The king takes it all like the good loyal friend that he is. Eardwulf shakes and his heart beats loudly against his chest. Stars dance across the ceiling. For a moment he feels all powerful, not like a king, but God Himself.

**Author's Note:**

> you know what, really would like to have some comments and thoughts on this. am i the only one who is seeing this? yell at me!


End file.
